Values, Lies, and Cereal?
by Cutie Pie 9335
Summary: Loki Laufeyson has been cast out, stripped of his godly powers and magic - to live as a mortal. Left in the care of the Avengers, can Earth's protectors show Loki just why Midguard is worth protecting?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Alright, so I saw the Avengers like a billion times and of course, like any self-respecting fangirl, immediately went into Loki-overload and ran home to start writing. I really loved the movie, the casting, and just the whole dynamic and while I was watching the whole thing, I got this idea of how Loki had no real idea of all the good things that Midguard has, so maybe spending some time there would change his tune. And maybe he would change his tune about the Avengers, but who knows? ;~)**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter and all the chapters yet to come. Please read and relax and review (please?).**

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**Chapter 1: Out of the Light**

**. . . . .**

Thor felt numb, dead to the world, yet at the same time incredibly, terrifyingly exposed, as if all could see into his heart, his mind, and read the darkness which swelled within. Disappointment is what he would call it, but casting another look at his brother Loki, he knew it was something more, some great suffering anguish that tormented every fiber of his being.

_Loki._

Green eyes stared fixedly on the metal walkway to Odin's palace, refusing to acknowledge any of his surroundings – he had not once glanced in his brother's direction – and the several cuts and bruises decorating his ashen face only wrenched the knife in Thor's heart. Under the gag, the God of Thunder imagined Loki's snarl, his twisted sneer, and all of those unspoken words sealed away.

"Thor!" Sif's cry startled the two gods into a complete halt. The dark-haired huntress bounded over, relief evident on her face. "By the divines, you're both alive. The counsel has gathered in Odin's court – the fate of Loki Laufeyson is to be decided."

She paused to look over the God of Mischief, taking in his battered appearance and obstinate glare, before examining Thor. For all her cunning and sharp wit, confusion bloomed across her features whilst questions swam in her eyes. _How did you capture him_ alive? _At what cost? What will become of him?_

"Then we shall not delay. Come, brother," Thor clasped the bindings on the Jotun's wrists gently, moving with haste towards the grand hall. Anticipation and fear welled and spilled out from the God of Thunder, his grip flexing against Loki's cuffs.

"My sons, you have returned to me."

All eyes were riveted on the All-Father, standing regally before the golden throne, his hands clasped behind his back. There was such a striking difference, Thor realized, between Odin and Loki – how could anyone have ever mistaken him as a son by blood? The very demeanor of the King said it all; his word was law, and if Loki Laufeyson was really an Odinson, then it was to be true.

Loki's jaw clenched and unclenched behind the thick metal gag, as if he was already unconsciously denying his acclaimed heritage.

"Loki of Asguard, son of Odin," green eyes sparked dangerously up at the King, "you have committed heinous crimes of treason and genocide, against both your home of Asguard and Midguard. What have you to say for your actions?"

With deft fingers, Thor freed his brother of the mouthpiece, surveying Loki's profile cautiously. The entire hall fell into a silence, waiting for a response, if any.

When none came, and Loki's unwavering silence had stretched for a moment too long, the All-Father spoke once more, tone harsh and flat with restrained anger.

"Have you, Liesmith, nothing to say? No excuse, no defense, for why you allowed us to mourn your passing, for why you return only by the grace of demons, for why your brother has -,"

"He is _not my brother!_" The scream seemed ripped from Loki's throat, hoarse and rough from disuse. "No more than you, _Odin Son of Bor, are my father!_ Here is my response – execute me for my crimes – I care not, but do not treat me as if I am your kin."

Loki's voice carried from high and crazed with hate to low and dangerous, lethal words like small daggers that buried deep into Odin's heart. His green eyes burned fervently with rage, an all-encompassing fury that gripped his soul.

"_Enough!_" the All-Father's shout shook the very core of Asguard, "Your punishment has been decided – it shall be swift and merciless. I strip you of your Godly bequests and magic, and deem you mortal. You are banished to Midguard, exiled from this court and world. May you only return when the knowledge of life's value has been bestowed upon you."

"You vile, wretched-," green flames exploded from Loki's mouth as he spit curses and dark enchantments at his once-father, eyes burning a rich shade of red. All of the Asguardians shrunk away from the exiled prince while Odin moved assuredly toward his two sons.

It happened in a moment, Odin lifting his palm to the Jotun who in turn suddenly became still. The flames were gone, the magic that Loki was nearly constantly wreathed in dissipated from the air, and his eyes, once bright green, dulled and glossed over with loss. Even his skin, which had glowed with the light of merely being a demigod, dimmed considerably, leaving behind mere flesh.

"What have you done?" Loki hissed, examining his hands.

"Turned you into that which you despise – a mortal," Odin's reply was soft, and perhaps would have been mistaken for merciful, but Thor understood. Loki would suffer more as a human than if he were to be killed; this was not generosity, it was truly punishment. "I cast you out of Asguard so that you may serve your sentence on Midguard. Be gone, Loki Laufeyson, I pray you never return."

Odin locked eyes with Thor, a brief understanding passing wordlessly between the two gods – it would be up to Thor to insure Loki's safe passage as well as guarding his life. The God of Thunder nodded, carefully placing a hand at the small of his brother's back, and turned to lead his brother away once more.

Now, Thor only hoped that the Avengers might take their return if only a little better. But with one glance at his stricken brother, Thor suddenly doubted that.

. . . . .

Pepper Potts delicately tried to place her hands over her ears without it being obvious. Music, loud and fast, assaulted the secretary's ears as she hesitantly inched closer to Tony Stark's personal lab. Through the glass window panes, the billionaire was in clear view, bobbing his head while simultaneously recalibrating the complex interworking of a new arc reactor.

"Hey Tony!" she rapped against the glass. "Tony, we have a meeting-,"

Tony glanced up and, with a wry grin, shrugged as if he had no idea what she was saying – which was entirely possible.

"Could you turn that off?" Pepper mouthed back at her employer, fixing him with her stern no-nonsense face. His face contorted in a look of mock-horror just before he commanded JARVIS to 'take it down a notch or two'. The AI brought it down several decibels – Pepper made a mental note to thank the virtual butler and maybe offer to take some responsibilities off his metaphorical shoulders.

"Do you realize what you just said? What that even means?" Tony Stark arched an eyebrow at Pepper. "That was AC/DC. AC/DC, the Gods of Rock. And don't even try to lie, I saw you covering your ears."

Nothing got past Tony Stark.

"We have a meeting in less than hour with the Board and you're still down here, like this," she gestured to his oil-stained forearms and shirt, "plus, you smell like you haven't bathed in god knows how many days. And I'd bet that JARVIS has reminded you several times about this meeting, but you ignored him, like you're ignoring me, right now."

Tony's straying eyes slid back to her – he at least had the grace to look somewhat sheepish.

_Sir, sensors are detecting abnormalities._ JARVIS' artificial voice intoned overhead. _Ripple-like fluxes are being monitored centering from this very location, matching the signature of –_

The lab exploded into blinding white light, papers spewing radically in every direction. It only lasted for a moment, but left standing in the wake was two additional people who hadn't been there seconds ago.

Thor and Loki looked out of place next to trim machinery and under the fluorescent lights.

"Tony Stark, Howardson and Man of Iron, I apologize to intrude so but this is of the utmost importance." The God of Thunder was not one to look nervous, yet as he glanced quickly between the billionaire and his brother, it seemed etched across his features.

"Uh, I hate to break it to you, Johnny Bravo, but Loki's standing behind you," Tony subtly moved himself in front of Pepper.

Confusion flashed across Thor's face as another reference was lost of him.

"I am aware, but he has been cast out of Asgard, stripped of his magic and immortality. I return to you with the hope that you could protect my brother. You had informed me before that you had set up a place here in the Newland of Mexico for the Avengers – I had hoped this invitation was still withholding."

Thor was at least half right, Tony had converted one of his estates, a large mansion in No-Where, New Mexico, into the new Avengers base, complete with separate suites for each of the members along with training grounds and ample food supplies. The only problem? It isn't an Avengers base without any Avengers in it.

Tony exchanged a look with Pepper, once again trying to look sheepish.

"Hey Pep? I think we're going to have to reschedule that meeting."

. . . . .

It had taken seven hours, seven hours of Fury's rage, scrambling agents, sudden lab-to-prison conversions, and the most amount of activity that Tony Stark's private jet service had gotten since his twenty-fifth birthday. Seven hours and the Avengers were assembled, so to speak, on Tony's leather couch in the second floor lounge. Seven hours and Loki was locked safely away. Seven hours and Thor was just now giving the explanation.

"…and so it was that my father Odin seized Loki's magic and transformed him from god to a mere mortal, by which I mean without offense," Thor hastily added, his booming voice echoing off the tall ceilings of the mansion.

A rumpled Steve Rogers, with faint pillow indentations on his cheek from the plane ride, blinked at the demigod as if he'd forgotten how to speak English. Bruce, who was in no better condition, just pinched the bridge of his nose while Clint and Natasha stood alert and observant. Tony, scotch in hand, studied Thor in silence, an eyebrow carefully cocked.

"Does your dad do this a lot, the whole 'great banishment' thing?" Stark paused before taking a sip.

Thor frowned, "It seems to be his favorite form of punishment since my last exile, yes."

"Well, what's the plan then?" Bruce met Thor's stare evenly. "Demigod or not, Loki's still a danger as long as he's in this house, hell even on this planet. I mean, you can't expect us to just what? Camp here together, twiddling our thumbs, while Loki's grounded?"

"We wouldn't have to be wasting our time," Natasha spoke up, stepping forward, "Stark built this place to house us; we could use this time to work on our skills as a team. Plus, with Loki in captivity we can get some answers about who it is we're really dealing with here. An army like that has to have another leader."

Clint's only contribution was to murmur, "Tasha's right."

"Great, then how about you guys get settled while I inform Old Saint Nick of our plans?" Tony drawled, a forced smirk plastered on his face.

Banner grinned back, "Inform? More like negotiate."

. . . . .

Loki sat, curled in on himself in the corner of his make-shift jail cell. Really, it was just a testing chamber that Tony had decidedly repurposed – it offered the best protection with five-inch thick glass, its own ventilation system, and could only be opened with an eye scan of approved personelle (Clint had looked a little sick upon hearing this).

Plus, there was a camera with a view.

Tony had ordered JARVIS to bring up the video feed as soon as he had finished his 'chat' with Fury, as well as fetched himself a bit of scotch.

"Playback from the beginning, if you don't mind," Tony flopped down onto his desk chair, "I'd like to see what our little goat has been up to, any nefarious plotting and all that. And give it a bit of fast-forward, I don't think I can just stare at him for that long."

_Of course, sir._

The recording materialized as a large hologram with Loki sitting silently in his cell, arms wrapped around his knees and face pressed against them. Tony watched the time roll by while Loki didn't move, even slowing it once to check the minute rise and fall of his breathing.

And then Thor's large frame appeared on camera.

"Stop, add audio."

_Sir, respecting the privacy of –_

"Tsk, Jarvis we've talked about this," Tony admonished. Without any further comments, the AI initiated the audio feedback, yet somehow even the silence seemed disapproving.

"—rother, please. Say something, anything, insult me if you must but please, do not remain silent, do not ignore me as if I mean nothing to you." Thor splayed a large hand against the glass and Tony watched, fascinated, as the God of Thunder pressed his forehead just above his hand.

"Have you already forgotten me, brother? Forgotten our childhood, our years together as warriors?" he murmured, his words making small clouded puffs against the cell. "Would you merely die here to spite me?"

Thor groaned and brought his other fist down upon the glass, not with enough force to shatter or even crack it but only to make a resounding bang. Loki didn't move, hardly even breathed. With one last final sigh, the demigod turned and strode away, disappearing from the camera's range.

"You know Jarvis, I'm thinking it's time I pay our houseguest a visit," Tony mused staring down into his cup as the condensation dribbled down his wrist.

_Sir, I would advise against that. Loki Laufeyson is a dangerous criminal –_

Tony scoffed as he pulled out another glass from the liquor cabinet and filled it with iced water. "Oh please, save your speeches at least for when I'm actually doing something dangerous. I'm only going to say hi and give him a little something to drink. Be a dear and summon the elevator would you? Also, lock it to make sure we don't make any stops on the way."

_Already done, sir,_ JARVIS intoned, sounding very close to slightly annoyed. The billionaire smirked up at the emptiness of his ceiling – the AI was getting to be a bit cheeky these days, probably something having to do with Tony himself.

The elevator pinged as it reached its final destination, the lab. It was about time for this talk anyway, Tony figured, what with the problem of housing the 'master-criminal' down here meant no tinkering time. Flight stabilizers and scotch was Tony Stark's chicken soul for the soul.

"You know, you could have at least _tried_ to quiet your footsteps."

Tony's eyes locked with Loki's bright green ones. The once-god had changed his position since the video feed, now stretched out almost languidly against the opposing wall, an arm draped oh-so-casually across one knee. While his demeanor screamed confidence, the dark bags under his eyes and lack-luster hair told a different story.

"I suppose, if I was trying to sneak up on you. But this," Tony gestured to the water in his hand, "is a peace offering."

A sneer worked its way onto Loki's features, "Spare me, mortal, I do not require your act of kindness nor for you to prolong my life so that you may hand me over to that blundering cyclops."

A beat and then, "Ouch, Fury would be hurt. And remind me again, who got stripped of their powers and cast out to slum it with the 'mere mortals'?"

"Clever," Loki snapped, "but do not try my patience."

Tony arched an eyebrow as he approached the make-shift prison. "That's sort of my thing, if you haven't noticed."

The Jotun opened his mouth to respond, and then slowly let it close, as if deciding against it. A small sigh, almost too faint to even be noticed, escaped from him and suddenly Loki appeared weary, burnt out and barely there. Tony took the quick reprieve to set the glass of water in the cell and just as hastily close the door again.

"Look, I told you I was here for a peace offering, and I am," Tony lowered his voice. "You don't have to stay locked up like this. I could give you a bed, food, a place where no one else can bother you."

"What would you have of me in return?" Loki asked evenly, a small glimmer of danger in those eyes.

"Well, your cooperation would be nice, but not necessarily needed. It's not like you're a real threat in your current –,"

In a flash, the Liesmith was on his feet, the glass of water just a blur before it exploded right in front of Tony's face, dripping down and clinking against the concrete. A small crack now marred the cell wall where Loki had hurled the cup.

"Do not underestimate me, Tony Stark!" The voice that came from the God of Mischief now was low and sharp, each word purposefully clipped and only rising in volume. "I could, with great ease, cut out your tongue before your slow mind even forms the next insult. I would flay your lovely wench Pepper alive and have you watch each strip of skin I peel from her bones. I warn you now, trifle with me and I shall inflict agonies upon you until you beg for something as merciful as death!"

The last few words were cast at Tony's back as he turned on his heel and stalked off. He clenched and unclenched his fists until he reached the elevator, opting to slam the button rather than just ask JARVIS.

_Sir, may I -?_

"No, you may not," Tony ground out. "I want that bastard on lockdown, no one gets in without personally asking me. Keep up the surveillance, around the clock video and audio."

_Right away, sir. Anything else?_

Tony paused, "Yeah, actually there is. Bring up the specs for the flight stabilizers."

_As always, sir._ _Scotch on ice as well with that?_

"Do you even have to ask?" the billionaire sighed, some of the tension leaving his body. The elevator dinged softly, signaling his arrival at the master suite floor.

Meanwhile, a few stories just below the billionaire's feet, Loki pulled his knees back up to his chest and let his eyes drift shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Alrighty, next chapter in this story and I'm thrilled to see how many people have read this and added it to their subscriptions and favorites. Don't worry, I'll earn all of your reviews, I promise. Thanks so much!**

**I hope you all read and relax and (hopefully) review. Enjoy!**

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_Chapter 2: Mornings_**  
**

Tony Stark was not a man to give into temptation, well at least not often -perhaps occasionally - but he'd pushed aside his curiosity and left Loki alone, unwatched, for a full day. Instead, Tony had spent his time in his office playing around with designs and figures, and definitely not thinking about the demi-god.

But now, boredom had struck.

"Jarvis, bring up the security feed," Tony ordered against his better judgement. This time, the AI was silent.

The video popped up, and it looked as if Loki hadn't even moved. He was still in the same corner, still curled in on himself, still concealing his face from the camera.

"Rewind it to my last visit," Tony murmured and perched his chin against his hand. The feed popped up again, just in time to see Loki smash the glass of water. The billionaire watched himself storm off. After that, Loki had returned to his default position.

It had only been an hour until Thor appeared again, though this time Tony didn't bother to watch the conversation. The God of Thunder left shortly after only to return again, and this whole process repeated itself, gone for an hour and back again only for a few moments. Tony watched his movements, sharp and quick with frustration, while his brother sat unmoved for the entire speech.

As the video's time neared the current, Tony slowed it down to watch Thor's latest attempt.

"-you know that already, I know you do," the thunderer sighed loudly, his shoulders sagging. "Father cares, he simply does not express it in th best of ways. He only wishes for his son's return, can you not see that?"

This was the first time Loki had ever stirred when Thor was there, lifting his head at last.

And Tony was struck, suddenly, by the look that flitted across the other man's face. In those twin emerald pools, anger flared, accompanied by anguish and regret.

"All I see now are the lies and treachery of Odin," Loki snapped, and then gave Thor a pointed look, "and a fool who is wasting his time."

"Then you are blind!" Thor roared, once again pounding his fist against the glass. "Father saved you from a life of wretched existence and delivered you a family and a kingdom."

"A kingdom destined to be ruled by you," Loki hissed back venomously, standing to his full height. "I was a trophy, a stolen relic."

"You were my brother," the thunderer insisted. "You were my kin, and my friend."

"I was none of those - and I shall never be again."

Loki's voice fell softly, the last echo of his words ringing in his cell. The two gods stared evenly at one another until finally, Thor turned to leave, his loud steps fading into the silence.

And Loki has stood calmly, staring after the blonde, then retreated back to his corner and slid slowly down into his crouched position. Tony could only stare as unknown emtions swirled within Loki's eyes

_Sir?_ JARVIS asked hesitantly, as if the machine could see the trouble brewing inside his maker.

"Get me the elevator," Tony groaned, "I think I might just have a death wish."

. . . . .

"I surely thought that I had permanently scared you away."

Loki's triumphant voice pierced the quietude of the lab, forcing Tony to finally meet his gaze. The god's grin was dark, yet somehow more tired than it was malicious.

"A little broken glass isn't all that terrifying," Tony made a face. "I mean, you threw me out of a building not too long ago. Plus, I figured you could use some company aside from your brother."

At this, Loki curled his upper lip and barred his teeth, but an almost light-hearted laugh escaped him.

"Ah, yes," Loki pushed himself to his feet and approached Tony. "If this is your Midguardian torture, then I commend you."

"If I had known it would've worked this well, then trust me, Thor would be locked down here along with you," Tony smirked as the sneer slowly slid off of Loki's face, only a placid mask left in its wake. "Don't suppose you're ready to talk now?"

There was a pause, the briefest of hesitations.

"About what, pray tell? My employer?" Loki scoffed, "This information is all that keeps me breathing, I am sure."

"That and the fact that Muscles up there would probably break anyone who tried to touch you. Really, such a brotherly bond," Tony arched a careful eyebrow.

"Do not speak of things which you know nothing about," Loki spat back at the billionaire.

"You first," he retorted. Loki only rolled his eyes but Stark took the opportunity to continue. "I've been pretty damn hospitable for a guy whose planet you tried to destroy-"

"Conquer."

"-whatever. The point is that I'm being nice when I don't have to be. Clearly, I'm just wasting my time too," Tony turned to leave whe suddenly there was a soft tap on the glass cell followed by Loki's call.

"Wait."

Tony turned slightly. Loki's jaw was working soundlessly as he tried to come up with the proper words.

"I am-," Loki cut himself off as a loud grumble erupted from his stomach.

"Hungry?" Tony guessed lightly.

Amusement crinkled the edges of Loki's eye and suddenly, the serious mood has disappeared, dissolving between the two men easily.

"Actually, I am quite famished," laughed the trickster. "But, I was going to say, that I am ready."

. . . . .

The only word that Tony could use to describe the look on Loki's face was skeptical. His green eyes examined every minuscule detail, the vaulted ceilings, various liquor cabinets, large TV and rounded couch. Yet as expensive as all of the furnishings were, Loki seemed unimpressed to say the least.

"Your Midguardian style is strange, Stark. You have all the wealth of a king, though you dwell as a peasant," Loki seated himself in the smooth, modern chair at the even more streamlined kitchen table.

Tony was a little more than on edge having the God of Mischief completely unbound, but the other man was making no move to throttle him, or stab him, etc. He marked this as progress and stepped behind the counter.

"Do you want an omelette, or maybe some pancakes?" Tony glanced over at the clock, it was barely six in the morning.

Loki stated blankly back, oblivious to what Tony was saying.

"You know what? I'll fix something up and you just eat, sound good?" Tony disappeared into the pantry.

In the meantime, Loki took in more of his surroundings. Strange little cloths, one for each seat, adorned the table. He was busy picking at the strangely thick and knitted fabric when a large bowl was plopped down before him.

"Here," the billionaire said, almost victoriously.

Small, bright orange squares lumped and floated together in a sea of white, converging around the hilt of a metal spoon. The god blinked at it a few times.

"What, in Odin's name," Loki pointed at the offending bowl, "is that?"

Tony grinned as he placed a cup of coffee beside the villain, taking his seat just opposite. He said simply, "Captain Crunch."

"Whom is in my milk?" Loki's startled expression was enough to make Tony chuckled, though immediately smothered it with the back of his hand.

"He's...well it's a name for the cereal, like a brand," Stark fumbled with the explanation, leaving Loki only more confused. Finally he gave up, instead saying, "Just try it, I swear you'll like it. No one can say no to cereal."

Ever brave, Loki grasped the spoon between his long, dexterous fingers and took a generous scoop into his mouth. Again, Tony would have laughed if not for anxiously awaiting the trickster's response.

Loki's eyes lit up as he pulled the empty spoon from his lips. He glanced down at the cereal as if he were truly seeing it for the first time.

"Good?" Tony assumed.

"It is-," Loki paused, as if decidedly keeping himself in check. His tone was devoid of all it's precious delight, "It is edible."

"Mhmm," Tony hummed knowingly. "Well, I also got you some coffee, in case you also want to seem that 'drinkable'."

This time, with less hesitation, Loki took a swig of the black liquid and almost instantly recoiled. He coughed and hissed at the vile beverage and then turned his rage upon the smirking billionaire.

"Do you mean to poison me?" he snarled, gesturing wildly at the mug.

This time, Tony didn't even try to contain his laughter as he got up to get the cream and sugar. He said between chuckles, "No, not exactly. It's actually a very common drink here, but usually with these it's better."

Hastily, Loki dumped the entire cup of cream into his coffee followed by several cubes of sugar. Only then did he dare for another sip which he still wrinkled his nose at.

"And I am called the God of Lies," Loki sniffed, abandoning his coffee in place for the two sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the soft clink of metal against porcelain as Loki ate his breakfast.

"You know, we probably should get you some different clothes to wear," Tony noted.

Loki looked down at his rumpled armor, chewing contemplatively. He smoothed out the creases in the heavy clothes before downing the rest of his cereal. Suddenly, it reminded Tony of Thor's impressive appetite, with the way that Loki looked longing at the empty bowl. Their unconscious similarities were almost endearing - almost.

"I would appreciate a bath, if available," Loki had the grace to look not so superior, humble being nearly out of his reach, but not nearly so demanding as before.

"Sure, this way," Tony got up and started off down the nearest hallway. It wasn't until the billionaire was a few steps ahead that Loki stole into the kitchen and snatched the cereal box, concealing it quickly within his robes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Alright, so I know it took me forever to update this - sorry! Seriously don't know where the time goes sometimes. So the cereal makes another great cameo, hope you guys enjoy that, I know I did. Also, the update is really thanks to a special reader to actually took the time to PM me and ask to update it ;) you know who you are. **

**Well, without further delay, your chapter is in. Please read and enjoy!**

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_Chapter 3: Learning Curve_

_. . . . ._

"I don't like it."

Natasha rolled her eyes and re-crossed her arms. "You don't like anything, Clint."

"Not true," Hawkeye let the arrow fly and strike its target yards off. He silently thanked Tony for adding a shooting range in the training room. "I like plenty of things – like TV and women and meatball sandwiches – but excuse me if having a _super-villain_ traipsing around our base isn't on that list. I don't trust him; he took all my cereal."

"Seriously? That's what you're-,"

"The whole box, Tasha!"

Clint fired another shot, this one more than just a little off course, striking almost a foot away from the center circle. The bowman cursed under his breath and stomped over to the wall to retrieve his arrows.

"Loki won't be a problem, you know that. You're letting irrational fear cloud your judgment," the female assassin said slowly, purposefully. Natasha met Clint's gaze levelly, raising her chin in a silent challenge.

"I hate when you do that," Clint relented. "Fine, I won't gouge the bastard's eyes out while he sleeps, but I will be watching him."

The Black Widow smirked back at her partner, "I wouldn't expect any less."

. . . . .

"Your midgardian garb is strange, Stark."

Loki's voice echoed out from the bathroom currently overflowing with steam. The god had been in the shower for more than an hour, cursing about 'infernal human mechanisms' and damning 'the mortals' contraptions'.

"Please tell me you don't need help, otherwise I'll be sending for Birdman to come help you. And I don't mean Hawkeye," Tony called back from his spot on the couch of Loki's room. The billionaire had given Loki one of the spare suites on the third floor, the least inhabited of the whole building. Also, the spot couldn't be more perfect – Tony's own room was directly above and the kitchen, living room, and rest of the squad was directly one floor below. JARVIS could monitor where Loki was based on his use of the elevator.

As for the clothing situation, Tony had sent for custom fit articles that might suit the god better but until then, he'd have to deal with borrowing. The slacks and button up Tony knew would be well out of Loki's comfort zone, but then again, as a god stripped of his powers and exiled to Earth, beggars weren't about to become pompous choosers – but knowing Loki, there would be some snide remarks.

Loki's sharp response was immediate, "No, I will manage."

"Good, then get out here, we still have to-," Tony stopped short, his eyes coming to rest on the now reemerged Loki.

His long black hair was damp and clung to his neck and jaw, looking much less sinister and flippy than before. Tony's white shirt fit the god, perhaps a bit too well, defining his broad shoulders that once Tony would have sworn were narrow and sloped. Tony's black slacks in the other hand only accentuated his tapered waist and were held in place by a pair of dark green suspenders. The pants stopped just shy of his ankle, clearly too short for the towering man. His feet were bare but even they seemed sternly elegant and promised swiftness.

"I know, mortal, even without my magic I am still godly," Loki gave a light chuckle that had a hidden snarky note to it. And for once, Tony had no real comeback – Loki was simply right, it was a miracle that anyone had ever mistaken him for being anything less.

"Yeah, yeah, Prima Dona," Tony recovered quickly, waving off his obvious slip. "Follow me and I'll show you around."

It was certainly intimidating, having the God of Lies not two steps behind you and standing nearly a foot taller, but Tony clenched his fists and pressed on.

"Well, not to be redundant, but this is your room, bed and bathroom and furniture all included."

Loki looked around, taking in the tall ceilings and large bay windows that provided a dull view of the desert. He silently considered the landscape before facing the billionaire once more, his hands clasped regally behind his back.

"Yes, shall we proceed?" Loki's tone not kind but it wasn't rude either, instead just all-business. Tony suddenly wondered just who was giving the tour.

. . . . .

Bruce Banner felt a chill race down his spine, skittering through his nerves, and it was certainly not from the amazing air conditioning that Stark had installed – it probably had something to do with a particular villain beside him.

"What," Loki drawled as he leaned forward from behind the couch, "is that?"

The scientist shifted in his seat, his hand suddenly slick against the TV remote. He was about half way through a documentary about the Soviet Union, not really paying attention, rather allowing his mind to wander. But now, Bruce followed the trickster's stare back to the television where a map of Russian was transposed over images of soviets, riots, and old buildings were displayed. Meanwhile, the narrator droned on about communism and economic instability.

"Hey," Tony's face popped in on the other side of Bruce's peripherals. "Sorry, we're sort of on a tour right now, didn't mean to sneak up on you."

The billionaire continued to chatter but Bruce felt himself unconsciously pulling away, focusing his attention of the other man. Loki's brows were drawn slightly as if confused yet also in awe, as if he was unsure about what he was seeing but nonetheless intrigued.

"It's a television," Bruce replied in a quiet voice. Loki stirred slightly, only enough to turn a clever eye on him briefly before returning to the screen. Tony was _still_ talking.

"Oh," Loki exhaled, just as quietly. He continued to stare, still obviously confused, but said no more.

"-but, really I just wanted to tell you so that way when you see him around you don't get freaked out," Tony concluded. Bruce caught that last bit, however.

"You're giving him free reign?" he frowned back. "I'm not sure full access would be the best idea, all things considered."

Tony's eyes flicked over to the Liesmith then back to Banner, "Don't worry. He and I worked out a deal – he stays here where we can keep an eye on him, and in return no killing or maiming or – well you get the picture."

Bruce considered Tony's words and then slowly got to his feet, standing eye to eye with Stark.

"Yeah, I think I do," he brushed past Tony, adding as an afterthought, "I just hope you know what you're doing."

. . . . .

"I do hope you know what you're doing."

Loki Laufeyson stared skeptically – it seemed to be his favorite type of staring – at Tony, who meanwhile was in the compromising position of fixing his suit's flight stabilizers, the mechanical arm locked in place on the workshop table.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," Tony tsked, clicking his tongue scoldingly. He was surprised to see the Liesmith standing, entirely out of place, in the middle of his workshop at nearly four in the morning.

It had been about a little more than a week since the trickster's recent grant of freedom, however Loki was loathe to exert it. At first, Thor had been the only one to worry, constantly pacing and starting as if he was going to go check on his brother, but clearly thinking better of it.

"Are you certain he is well? Perhaps one of us ought to see and bring back confirmation," Thor had said during one of his many pacing routines. Bruce glanced up from his book, but seemed to sink lower into the kitchen chair.

Tony had assured the Thunder God that Loki was fine and to give him space – things would work themselves out.

And low and behold, they started to. It was subtle at first, the disappearance of food, but it also became increasingly more stable. Instead of the usual one box, Tony started buying two Captain Crunches, one Barton would eat every morning, the other would be gone with the few hours of being in the pantry.

So then, Tony had decided to have a trial run for his theory – he moved the cereal box. First, he tried hiding it under the couch and stayed in the main room as much as he could, but as soon as Tony had left and returned, the box was gone. Then, he tried a little less concealment and more placement. He moved it over to the end table, just beside the balcony windows, and stuck a little note on it that read: _Hi! Miss me?_

When the billionaire got the same result – missing box but still no Loki sighting – he tried something a bit bolder. Tony set the box right on his workbench, practically on top of all his notes and schematics, the Captain's too happy face smiling up at him.

This time, he'd get results.

Loki had been quiet, that was to be sure, but JARVIS was no match for the trickster, especially without magic to cloak himself.

"Looking for something?"

Tony could practically _feel_ Loki's cringe. The Jotun had made in halfway into the lab, so stealthily that without the butler AI, he might've just had a chance to escape with the prized breakfast. But not this time.

Now Loki approached, still quietly, but not in a forced way.

"Yes, I am, two things actually and I seem to have found them in the same place," Loki scowled. "I demand to know precisely why you insist on playing this childish game, Tony Stark."

With his own smirk, Tony whirled around in his desk chair and tried to look disarming. His winning smile was clearly having little effect on the God of Mischief.

"Had to find some way to get you out of that room," Stark shrugged, "besides, I wondered if you had figured it out yet. Somehow, I didn't think you'd disappoint."

The room became still as Tony extended the cereal box out to Loki, who in turn was watching him suspiciously, like a wounded animal regards a human. And really, there was no better metaphor; Tony was giving, hoping not to be bitten, and Loki meeting him, hoping not to be betrayed.

Loki reached for the cereal, his long fingers unfurling only to clench to cardboard. When he pulled though, Tony hadn't let go yet. Their eyes met, time paused and swelled, the silence hit its crescendo.

Then Tony let go.

"You did not answer whether or not you know what you are doing," Loki sharp comment drew the billionaire back to the present, only to glance down at his mess of the suit's arm. Wires were sticking out at every angle from a rather grotesque looking hole.

"Yeah, sure," Stark tried to shrug, "but, I don't suppose you wouldn't holding those two wires – yup the green and red – out of the way?"

Loki said nothing, as was becoming the usual, and spoke with his actions. Tony had once got the feeling that Loki had wanted to talk, but it simply that he just _didn't, _save for the few snide remarks here and there.

Since that fateful cereal night, Loki had made a handful of quick visits, always in the early hours of morning, just before dawn, staying long enough only to ask a few questions or help out with some project Tony had been working furiously on, of course adding his twist of snark and sarcasm. And then, after an hour or so, the trickster would take his leave, as if his craving for some kind of company had been fulfilled.

This night/morning would prove no different, Tony was certain, but here and now, having the trickster's company, however brief, was suddenly enough for him too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: So I made an active effort to get this chapter out faster than before. I know, I've been seriously lagging - sorry! But this cahpter, we get to see Loki try to interect with another member of the team. Not exactly as well as he does with Tony, but then I get the feeling that he and Tony just have more similar personalities. I'm actually really excited for this chapter, even though not a whole lot progrresses - well, Tony worries and Loki's curious once again. Also, no cereal cameo this time! *Gasp!* I know! Next chapter, I swear.**

**You chapter is in! Thanks for all the awesome follows, reviews and favorites! Please enjoy.**

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_Chapter 4: Assist *_

Week two, Bruce mentally marked it on his calendar.

Week two of Loki and of his otherwise recluse behavior, of avoiding pretty much all of the Avengers save for one (Bruce wasn't blind, thank you very much). Of his sulking, cereal-stealing, and plain hiding. Of driving Hawkeye up a wall without even physically being in the room. Of worrying Thor constantly. Of making Natasha ever-alert. Of keeping Steve out from the house, leaving the super-soldier to default to lame excuses and errand-running.

Of making Bruce Banner the most nervous he'd ever been.

And it wasn't the fear that Loki would hurt _him_, moreover just whom Loki would make him hurt. Everyday, waking up with the knowledge that a villain was sound asleep _upstairs_? Bruce could feel Hulk's anger, outrage, his desire for conflict, bubbling up to the surface.

The only thing worse than becoming the Hulk was being forced into the transformation by simply losing control. Tony would try and test his patience sure, but Bruce never had to worry about his own teammates setting him off – he trusted them with his life – and plus, the Big Guy had sort of grown a soft spot for them too.

But Loki? Dangerously uncharted and rage-inducing territory.

It was what kept Bruce up at night, kept him watching his back constantly, in the fear that Loki might set him off, throw him into an uncontrollable rage here in the house, and kill all of his friends himself. Or worse; get out of the house and start with civilians.

It was too terrible to think about.

However, he hadn't had to worry about the trickster since he'd basically been shutting himself up in his room. Plus, Bruce had been counting on that beat down the Big Guy gave him to be a deterrent.

It wasn't.

"Leave. Now."

Bruce didn't need super powers to know that the villain was currently standing in the doorway to his private lab, just down the hall from Tony's own personal workshop. He didn't dare look up, instead kept his gaze firmly trained on the cells under the microscope.

"Impressive, for a human," Loki's voice flowed like ice-cold water through the room. Bruce flinched at every soft, sock-clad, step Loki took toward him, but still refused to make eye-contact.

"Stupid, for a god," Banner shrugged in return. This stopped Loki in his tracks, only a few yards away.

There was a rustle of cloth – folding his arms maybe? – and then, "You think I am…up to no good."

Loki used the vernacular awkwardly, obviously trying to use familiar phrases, but they only sounded weird coming from him. This was not a question either, merely a statement of fact. Yes, Bruce certainly was suspicious of Loki.

"Isn't that sort of, I don't know, redundant? You're never 'up to good'," Bruce glanced briefly to where Loki was standing, only enough to see the gray socks he was wearing.

Another step forward, more cautious than the last few.

"What're you doing?" Loki sniffed, dodging the remark entirely. He wasn't lacking his usual superior air, more so that it was muted, dimmed down. Bruce sighed and made a decision, he took the plunge.

He looked up.

Eyes locked equally, studying one another with just as much disdain as interest. Mutual curiosity mingled with entirely too much mutual hate.

Bruce was the first to look away, returning his attention to the stem-cells he had been studying previously. He sighed, saying in a rush, "Genetic research, trying to record the different variables of gamma radiation on stem-cells and their regenerative properties."

Loki clearly understood none of what Bruce had just said, but like before with the television, he simply said, "Oh."

Bruce mentally groaned, his own need to inform overriding his desire for the villain to leave. He flicked off the light on the scope and turned slightly to face Loki head on.

"All life is made up of cells, tiny and individual living creatures. And there are different kinds of cells – the ones I'm working with are, well, they can become any kind of cell, skin cell, bone cell. Some people even think they can cure diseases," Bruce said slower, inspecting Loki's face for any sign of understanding. The trickster merely looked mildly inquisitive.

"You mean to cure yourself of that beast."

Bruce had to give him brownie points – the man was sharp, more so than Bruce was ever really going to credit him for, but still.

"Something like that."

Loki circled even closer, his brows drawn together, as he said carefully, "Well Mister Banner, where I come from such curses like yours rarely find themselves a cure. And, as in response to your earlier remark, I _guarantee_ you, I am absolutely _up to no good_."

The trickster's voice dropped low and deadly, his eyes glittered brightly back. Everything about him, his posture and demeanor morphed, becoming just as twisted as the leer curling upon his lips.

Bruce felt his control strain under the pressure of the other guy and grit his teeth against the sensation. No, he wouldn't turn! He wouldn't let that monster take anymore than he already has.

"Ah, but I jest."

If not for the absolute shock that jolted through his system, Bruce would've hulked out right then and there.

All of the menace that had one been present Loki disappeared as if it had never been there to begin with, a light-hearted, even warm, smile bloomed on his face instead. And the truly frightening thing was that it didn't even look forced, as if Loki was sincerely kidding, which Bruce highly doubted. This was the God of Mischief after all.

"I'm flattered that you still find me so capable, but such is wasted on idle fears," Loki continued, waving the situation off too easily. "I'm sure your scientific endeavors will prove rewarding. Until that time, do take care."

With that, the trickster swiftly turned on his heel and walked out, leaving a very shaken Bruce Banner to stare at his retreating back, his mind reeling.

. . . . .

"I might need your help."

"Is that so? Because it certainly looks as if you have a handle on the situation."

Tony's face twitched in annoyance. "Stop being an ass-hat and get over here."

Loki blinked in mock innocence, batting his eyelashes just for effect. He took a few steps closer, almost tentatively, but Tony knew better than to believe the ruse.

"You do seem to be – what's that human expression? – within a proverbial pickle," the trickster conceded.

And really, Tony Stark was very much in a pickle.

He was splayed awkwardly out across his reclining medical chair, one hand holding his shirt up above the arc reactor, the other actually gripping it, wires leading back into the gaping hole in the center of his chest. Plus, the fact that Loki was just watching him struggle, knowing how vulnerable Tony was at that moment, was certainly doing nothing to help.

Curiosity glimmered in the twin emerald pools; Loki took yet another step forward. As much he may enjoy watching the mortal squirm, the trickster was just as inquisitive about the nature of the strange glowing cylinder.

"Could you just -," Tony stopped and twisted in the chair, eyes scanning and searching for some unknown object. He clearly had found it but when he glanced back up at Loki, who had gotten closer yet again, Tony's mouth went dry with the realization of what he was going to ask.

But Loki's hands were sure, stable, and absolutely freezing as he cupped the glowing reactor. Tony shuddered, fear tingled at the base of his spine, as he reached for the small tool – a tiny wire-cutter.

"This thing," Loki clenched and unclenched his hands around it, testing its durability, "is somehow connected to your life source."

He said the words with wonder and almost as if he were simply thinking aloud. It was not a question, more just a statement of realization – a realization that suddenly made the billionaire incredibly nervous.

"My heart," Tony croaked and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. His eyes traced up the length of Loki's arm, seeing the tendons ripple just under the surface. Demi-god or not, he could probably still crush the reactor between his palms with ease.

Tony carefully and quickly finished his work, intertwining the problem wire with the main core, promising himself he'd fully deal with it another time when a super-villain as literally holding his life in the palm of his very destructive hands. However, Loki gently placed the reactor back into the center and with a swift twist, locked it back in place. His hands remained though, hovering in the glow whilst fingertips traced the cool metal edging.

"I saw that you paid Bruce a visit," Tony started slowly, unsure how to bridge the topic. "Generally, I'd say he's the one person to leave out of the antics, but somehow I don't think you're worried about the 'other guy'."

"He's quite a nervous man, isn't he?" Loki mused aloud, still watching the ebb and flow of light the reactor was radiating. When Tony only responded with a stern look, Loki sighed and turned away, saying, "I was curious as to how much control he has over the beast."

"A lot," the billionaire answered simply, getting up from the chair.

"Indeed," the Liesmith half-turned back around to Tony, casting him a sidelong glance. "But I will decide whose company I entertain – that is not up to your dictation."

"I wasn't trying to 'dictate' anything." A pause, air-quotes, and then, "All I'm saying is that you could get yourself killed."

"Which is none of your concern."

This statement Loki said as if it were a dismissal, clearly done with the pointless conversation, but it oddly struck Tony. It was true; Loki was completely right – if he got himself killed by the Hulk, Tony knew he wouldn't shed a tear and might even be a little relieved. The whole team – hell the whole world – would be, expect Thor of course.

But suddenly, Tony felt that he _should_ care.

. . . . .

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a woman with a loaded weapon?"

Natasha Romanov was perched atop the railing that separated the shooting range from the close-quarters combat area, essentially the line between what was Clint's territory of the training room and Steve's. Her lithe, thin, hands moved deftly over one of her favorite guns – a standard issue, semi-automatic firearm. Light and direct.

"Apologies, but no, we don't have many female Asguardian warriors. Most prefer the menial tasks of childbearing and housework."

Loki's voice echoed through the training room, holding a dangerously intrigued note to it. It reminded Natasha of the first time they ever spoke, she suppressed both a grin and a shudder.

"Then I suppose that explains a lot about you, really," Tasha replied just as falsely teasing. If the jab bothered Loki, he didn't show it on his face as he came into the Widow's view.

"And yet almost nothing about you," Loki slunk over with such an easy look of confidence, a smirk plastered across his face. "Where did we leave off last time? I believe it was something about a young woman with red in her ledger."

"No, it was with you threatening to split Barton's head, all while simultaneously handing me your master plan on a silver platter." A loose lock of fiery red hair was tucked behind her hair without missing a beat. "I never did thank you properly."

"No need, the pleasure was all mine," the God of Mischief replied easily. The whole conversation was forced, all the real content hidden in the inflection and between the lines. "I never properly commended you on your acting prowess. It was quite the show."

"Well," Natasha hopped off the railing, fastening her gun back into the belt of her suit, "you're not the only one watching, and believe me, he's always watching."

She flipped her hair and half-gestured to the rafter overhead where Hawkeye was undoubtedly lining up a shot, daring the trickster to give him any reason, let him find any fault that warranted the release of the arrow.

Loki smiled after the female assassin.

. . . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: So I take really annoingly long breaks and like never update until at the last minute I suddenly feel like it. Sue me. Or don't. Sorry for the majorly late update, but I'm gainning new traction in this story after watching the Avengers again, so hopefully I'll be able to crank out a few more chapter before too too long.**

**Please read and enjoy!**

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_Chapter 5: Fancy Footwork_

"I think someone has a crush."

Natasha Romanov put down her cup of pure black, French roast coffee – it was the only powerful thing the French had ever made, Tasha liked to think with a smirk. But she was certainly not the one doing the smirking this morning – no, unfortunately that belonged solely to Tony Stark.

"What do you want?" she tried to sound professional, like the no-nonsense spy façade she typically wore. _Porofessional,_ Natasha mentally chanted, _collected_.

Unperturbed, Stark sat himself down in the chair across from her at the kitchen table, looking impeccable in his Armani suit yet also impossibly out of place with his fuzzy green socks and cereal bowl in one hand.

"Getting ready for a meeting?"

Tony grinned sheepishly, "Just finished, but don't change the subject – I've seen Loki hanging around the combat training area. The two of you have been looking pretty _cozy_."

"Hardly, and it's not even seven yet, you finished a meeting?"

"It was just a board meeting, nothing really important – should I start getting the wedding together now or wait a few more months for it to really sink in?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed Clint's cereal missing, and your little hide-and-seek game – at seven in the morning? Determined board."

"You're observant, I'll give you that, on both accounts," Tony drummed his fingers against the wooden table, seeming to finally lose interest in their match of dual banter. "Just keep it that way."

. . . . .

"You know, I'm starting to think you have a death wish."

"Is that so?" Loki circled closer. Natasha ducked and aimed a blow for his chest which the trickster easily evaded. "And here I was beginning to think you have a fetish with all the time you spend here. Don't worry, housework will always be available should you decide to leave the heavy lifting to your male counter-parts."

Loki returned the attack, giving a last punctuation to his words. With grace, Natasha blocked the hit, reversing the moment in an attempt to force him off balance, but as usual, Loki was quick to recover.

"Oh a fetish, says the masochist," the assassin retorted quickly.

"-To the sadist."

For a moment, Natasha Romanov almost smiled. Almost.

This whole dance had been going on for a few days, ever since their first encounter; Loki would corner the redhead when she was alone in the training room for a couple minutes of harsh banter and then disappear again. It was only recently, however, that they had begun sparring. Neither ever inflicted much damage, rather it was more about testing limits than recreation.

"Quim."

Tasha glanced up. Loki was perched, much as she had been herself the very first time they were here, on the railing beside the floormats. 'Quim' had lately become his favorite and only name for the female agent – more than an insult though not nearly a term of endearment.

"_Is he watching?_" Loki asked in albeit slightly choppy Russian. It would seem that an ex-immortal prince would have little use for a different language – imagine Natasha's surprise from their first conversation. Apparently, Loki had learned the dialect some time ago, though never giving any specifics. It didn't matter; Natasha wasn't one to believe a God of Lies.

"_What do you think?_" she shot back, uncomfortable speaking in her native tongue. It was too personal, too close, and having Loki know it was like some part of her had already been swallowed up by the villain.

"That perhaps I've over-stepped again," Loki arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Yes, you have, but you crossed that line some time ago," the Black Widow did not make eye contact. "Isn't it about time for you to go help Tony or something? Anything not around me?"

It was a strange dance. Loki was only ever out-right vile whenever Natasha dished it back, but as soon as she seemed to lose interest, the trickster seemed genuinely, if not a tad mischievously, cautious. It was not something comfortable; it was simply a challenge, a dare for the other to snap first.

Also, neither planned on losing.

"Don't tell me I've frightened you off already," Loki mock-pouted, hopping down from the ledge.

Natasha barked a short laugh, "Hardly. I'd hate to break it to you, but you don't scare me. I could disable you in twenty-three ways before you even touch me, and that's strictly counting non-lethal."

"Cute," the Jotun sneered. "Then what, pray tell, haunts your waking hours?"

It was brief, so quick it was hard to even catch, but the woman's eyes flicked away pointedly before focusing once again on her water bottle.

"Very little." Curt, clipped response. Another topic to avoid, but this time, Loki pushed.

"Oh my," understanding dawned the in the trickster, "but that something very little can become something very big and green."

Natasha stiffened, her eyes finding the pair opposite hers, and found nothing but the dangerous glint of knowledge working there. Her guard was immediately up.

"I'm not afraid of Bruce – he would never hurt me, or any of the Avengers. You, however, hopefully won't be so lucky." Even the reply was forced, thick and automatic sounding, painfully false. Clearly, Loki had struck a nerve.

He examined the woman's profile for only moment too long before slowly turning on his heel as he called out, "Perhaps, Miss Romanov."

. . . . .

The main hall was empty, this Loki was sure of. He'd waited patiently in the stairwell halfway between floors, listening as Tony and Bruce headed to the lab and officially leaving the living room/kitchen open.

Quickly, on silent feet, Loki crept into the living room, his usual target – the pantry – in sight just over the open counter. He stepped closer, one hand trailing along the countertop as he paused to examine the room.

There were signs of life, not quite the catalogue-mansion that been here weeks ago – a coffee cup half-full, a box of pop-tarts sitting at the table, a rumpled newspaper with the crossword puzzle only just started. Loki ran a finger down the side of the cool mug, trying to imagine one of the Avengers – Tony perhaps? – holding it, drinking from it, sloshing it around obliviously as he argued some dull scientific point with Banner.

Bruce Banner who would have started the newspaper, tapping the pen insistently against the table, juggling both Tony and the puzzle, managing to do both still exceedingly well. Loki inched closer, pouring over the neatly printed letters in each box and the clues on one side, little notes scrawled delicately beside those.

And the pop-tart box – Loki only had one guess, one six foot tall, blonde Norse guess.

"…so then, I said that if he wanted it so bad, well he's got one working arm."

Clint's casual drawl was accompanied by Thor's deep rumbling laughter as the pair emerged from the elevator, as if summoned by Loki's mere thoughts. The trickster's response was immediate – he ducked behind the kitchen counter, hidden from view. The pantry was just to his left, too far away to be reached now without behind detected.

"An impressive tale to be sure," Thor chuckled, slapping Clint roughly on the back, and launched into a great story of his own. A battle of epic proportions, one that Loki had heard many times over many casks of ale.

But that was a very different time, shared between two very different people.

The pair split, Clint's rapid yet soft footsteps leading off towards the couch while Thor moved toward the kitchen, still recounting how many foe fell to the mighty Warriors Three and the impossible odds they'd faced.

Loki made a break for it, hoping that if he was quiet enough and fast enough, maybe his brother wouldn't see him, wouldn't find him and corner him into some discussion that neither was prepared for. The trickster cleared the hallway, out of the Thunder God's immediate vicinity but no doubt he would come lumbering by any moment to join the other Avenger on the couch.

The reaction was instinctual.

The God of Lies reached for the nearest door handle and twisted, throwing himself inside without another glance and shutting the door as gently as possible behind him. One hand lingered on the door handle, the other pressed over his heart which pounded with adrenaline, while his entire frame was pressed quite ungracefully against the broad surface of the door.

"Um…,"

Loki's eyes snapped right to the source of the interruption. Steve Rodgers, sitting in his usual and slightly old-fashioned civilian clothes, just reading a simple book in an equally sparse room on a small plain bed.

"Captain Rodgers," the name slipped out past a clenched jaw.

One blonde brow arched in return, "Loki."

The silence that carried on was excruciating, both men staring at one another at a total loss. It was clear that the trickster had no viable excuse, just as it was clear that Steve did not want to know.

"Yes, well," Loki straightened up and tried to look nonchalant, but made no move to leave, instead taking a step deeper into the room, examining the few newspaper clippings that adorned the white walls.

At a glance from the titles, they were about seemingly small and unconnected events – the last World War II veteran dying, the death of a Howard Stark, a few obituaries with some particular names underlined, a recent article about the Avengers. Yet, Loki still reached out, smoothing the oldest and most yellowed of all the pages – a papers that had one grim headline: **Capt. America Dead!**

Just below the title, a very beautiful woman could be seen in a grainy photograph, tear tracks marring her perfect cheekbones and clutching a handkerchief against her chest.

Steve took in a small breath and tried to sound stern, "Now, I don't-,"

"When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough," Loki murmured lightly, pulling away from the article at last. "Maurice Maeterlinck, I believe it was."

It was like someone had slapped Steve Rodgers, the man sat absolutely stunned just watching as the villain turned his questioning gaze back upon him as if he hadn't summed up all feelings of loss and regret with one simple quote. Loki even smiled, a tiny almost indistinguishable upward pull at one corner of his mouth.

"I—um, yeah actually it was," Steve cleared his throat and blinked rapidly a few times, words coming slowly to him. And then it struck the captain again, "Why are you—um, how did you–,"

"There aren't many gods who craft literature, believe it or not," Loki said with a mockingly sour note, though his eyes were secretly wistful with faint crinkles marring the edges. "Asguardians seem to find the talent of wordplay useless."

The captain fell silent at his words, stunned but unsure of how to proceed. Unfortunately, the military hadn't offered any training on how to actually _deal_ with your enemies rather than just handle. And somehow, Loki seemed like someone to be dealt with, not a problem to handle.

But the moment was suddenly lost as the trickster turned sharply away, hearing something beyond the door, but there was no sound rather just the lack thereof. Steve could almost imagine his ears literally pricking up.

As quickly as he had appeared, Loki had disappeared, moving over to the door with fast and even steps, purposefully. As quickly as he'd appeared, the trickster disappeared once more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Alright, I've got another quick chapter for you guys just because I do sort of still love this story. Hopefully, I'll update this a little quicker. I've already started the next chapter and I thought about including that into this but then I figured, I kind of is long and deserves its own thing. Basically, next chapter is really going to kick off the plot. Squee!(:**

**Enjoy!**

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_Chapter 6: Starts and Stops_

_. . . . ._

The darkness seemed to roil and crumple inward, as if time and space itself were culminating into one corner of the cosmos, aligning into a grand crescendo. It hummed with the dark power and resonated in the wide expanse of nothingness. Even the stars themselves gradually winked from existence as if they could no longer stand to stare into the bleak oblivion.

Such was the domain of the Mad Titan.

And Skurge was not overly fond of it.

Admittedly, the Enchantress had taken him to all corners of the Nine Realms though never had they traveled so far into this vast gaping maw of the In-Between. Never had they ventured so far into this wasteland, seeking out a _myth_. Skurge could not hold back his scoff.

Thanos was a wives tale, told to younglings to scare them back to their bedchambers – the Mad Titan nothing more than legend passed on through the ages. And yet with little more than a flick of her wrist, Skurge had blithely followed his mistress wheresoever she might command, thusly they were here, floating through the blankness of space with only the bubble of her magic surrounded them.

It seemed they would go on like this forever, following what the Enchantress had called 'The Pathway', an otherwise invisible trail through the Nine supposedly leading her to Thanos.

Accursed magic, Skurge grumbled inwardly.

"Hush, I am aware you are displeased, you oaf." Skurge met the intent gaze of his mistress, two twin emerald pools set in a stunning porcelain visage framed by luscious blonde locks. _Gorgeous and lethal_, she'd often tell him. And one would have to be a fool to disagree.

"Are you certain will we find him, Amora? Are you certain he even _exists_?"

Those green eyes narrowed into thin slits, glaring daggers at her assistant, all of that beauty swallowed up in her wrath. She hissed venomously, "Of course, you imbecile. Cease your insolent chattering or I shall."

The Executioner obediently fell silent for a beat before once more opening his mouth, ready to question again but suddenly, a deep rumbling penetrated the breadth of space. It continued for several seconds as the shield surrounding the duo wavered dangerously until at last, all became deafeningly silent and unnaturally still.

"We have found him," Amora whispered, her voice full of wonderment and fear.

"_No, I have found _you."

A booming voice cut through the space and seemed to infiltrate and consume every corner of the mind, as if it alone was the sole reason for your existence, as if it alone would dictate your life. Skurge felt him then, the swell of power in the seemingly empty cosmos. He felt reduced to little more than a speck, an infinitesimally insignificant piece of worthlessness under the great weight of power, true and ultimate power.

_Thanos_.

The darkness opened its maw, and swallowed them whole.

. . . . .

The world was overly dark, and jostling.

"If I may just –,"

"You may not."

"Surely, though –,"

"Nope."

"Stark."

Loki felt the presence directly beside him cease walking for a moment. Secretly, the Asguardian breathed a sigh of relief. It had still been early in the morning when the philanthropist had sought him out and demanded that he close his eyes. The trickster had stared at Anthony Stark as though the man had grown a second head, but blithely, he complied with his wishes.

It was something about the twinkle in those impossibly dark eyes, the amicable smile that had undoubted beguiled many equally of both genders. For all his pomp and sarcasm, Tony Stark was a human endowed with miraculous charm hidden away in the ranged pallet of his face.

Loki closed his eyes.

"Alright," Stark had said, moving in close until he stood directly at Loki's right side, hands hovering and occasionally steering at the small of his back. The physical contact was strange, yet even stranger was the twist of something – _fear, perhaps? – _knotting in Loki's gut.

They had walked for some time, taking the elevator lift once, before Stark finally came to a complete stop. In his mental map, Loki realized belated he'd never been to this section of the mansion. His stomach turned again – _anxiety_, he identified, eyes twitching slightly under their cover.

"You can open your eyes."

Tony took a few steps away but hadn't gone far, never goes far, before Loki finally opened his aching eyes.

"Surprise!" Tony cheered softly, spreading his arms in a wide, dramatic flourish. "I didn't know what day your birthday was and when I asked your brother he seemed about as lost as the idea as I figured you'd probably be, which makes me seriously wonder about Asguardian holidays if they don't include birthdays, but I mean, it's your own –,"

Anthony also had the marvelous gift of incessant babbling, but the words faded away, drowned out suddenly by a rush of something that could be identified as a form of sentiment.

"—so then I decided to make you this!" Tony finished, faintly out of breath. He gestured to the entire room, the entire room painted a most lovely shade of deep evergreen and filled with finely crafted furniture, each a heavy oaken piece so contrary to Stark's typical preferences.

One wall was entirely books, tomes lined up in perfect order with their embellished title glinting in golden lettering. Windows occupied the adjacent wall, tall and luxurious with their lighting, yet two heavy silken drapes framed it for comfort.

Meanwhile, Tony had ambled over to the third wall were two panels parted automatically at the sway of his hand, stepping back to allow Loki a closer look. The nook was absolutely brimming with articles of clothing, one side consisting of modern high-end suits and silken button-ups, but something else caught the trickster's eye.

The other side.

Loki pulled out from the closet, hanger and all, a graceful tunic not unlike what he'd once worn in Asguard. Trousers, made of soft and darkly stained leather, hung from a rung lower than the shirt. Both were made so finely, they nearly could pass as the original, and Loki had no doubts if each article was tailored specifically to his body.

The feeling of sentiment reared its head once more, and Loki found himself surprisingly at a loss for words. Some mix of affection and gratitude pounded briefly through his veins before forcibly dissolving back into his usual indifference.

"So…what do you think?" Tony grinned that supremely self-satisfied grin and Loki took a designated moment to rearrange his face back into passiveness, mentally steadying his response.

"It is…," Loki searched for word, "…adequate."

Tony's grin only grew.

"You're welcome," the billionaire responded, all taunting gone from his voice. "I figured that it was about time you really got your own room here, so here it is, tailored to your liking. You can make whatever changes you like, just ask JARVIS and he'll make sure you get anything else you might want."

Loki turned his gaze upon the mortal, leaving Tony to fidget under the sudden scrutiny. He balked.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Tony backed away, sparing one last glance at the strangely silent ex-demigod before making his escape. "Welcome home."

The Liesmith turned away at last, letting his finger run idly over the tunic still in his hand.

_Welcome home._ The words felt branded into his very being.


End file.
